


Assume the Position

by rose_malmaison



Category: NCIS
Genre: Discipline, First Time, Kink, M/M, Slash, Spanking, kink-bingo, kink: pervertibles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-16
Updated: 2012-06-16
Packaged: 2017-11-07 21:35:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/435693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rose_malmaison/pseuds/rose_malmaison
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tony finds that Gibbs has another use for his newspaper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assume the Position

**Author's Note:**

> For: Kink-Bingo at Dreamwidth   
> Kink: Pervertible (everyday object used as a sexual toy)  
> Warning/ Content notes: M/M, slash, sex, first time, language, people involved in sexual or kinky situations, language, nudity, spanking, discipline.  
> Betas: thanks go out to Firesign10; and Annie, Combatcrazy.  
> Note: The news item about the plague was in today's news online.

The baseball game they have tickets for is rained out, and just as Tony reconciles himself to spending another lonely Saturday afternoon alone in his apartment, watching movies he's seen a dozen times before, Gibbs invites him to stick around for a meal and some quality one-on-one time.

Actually, what Gibbs says is, "Stay," but Tony understands and doesn't need to be asked twice.

Whenever Tony comes over he acts as if he owns the place, but Gibbs doesn't seem to mind. Tony sprawls across Gibbs' lumpy old couch, his iPad propped on his stomach, and lazily scratches his belly where his t-shirt has ridden up. "You know, Gibbs," he says without looking up from his iPad, "you really should get with the 21st century. This newspaper app is really good and there's even an app that says it taps your inner woodworker. It says here that you can design your new deck and see what it looks like in 3D. Cool."

Gibbs, ensconced in his favorite easy chair, stares at Tony over the top of his reading glasses, then snaps the newspaper dismissively and goes back to the editorials.

Tony doesn't expect any response. Not yet, anyway. Gibbs is slow to boil, but when his temperature eventually rises it will be like milk heating on the stovetop. Milk bubbles and dances around the saucepan with strange, swirly things going on under the surface, and then, suddenly and with no warning, it surges to the top so fast and so unexpectedly that you have to rush to prevent it from overflowing. The mental image of white sticky liquid surging out of a saucepan causes Tony's breath to hitch, but Gibbs doesn't appear to notice.

Gibbs reaches for his coffee and takes a couple of sips before returning his mug to the table at his elbow. He moves on to the sports section and grunts with displeasure at yesterday's scores.

Touching his iPad screen, Tony scrolls through the latest news in search of something compelling to read. He doesn't read silently, of course; he tries to engage Gibbs, making sure to comment on any article that catches his attention. Gibbs seems to be listening but it's hard to tell. Tony goes on to offer short riffs on the top stories anyway. They come in fifty-word highlights, designed for readers with short attention spans: human interest, celebrity arrests, the latest medical miracle.

Tony comments, jokes, laughs, but still Gibbs doesn't turn a hair. "Hey, check this out. They're saying 'the plague, typically considered a remnant of the Middle Ages, is making a comeback.' Shit, they make it sound like it's a revival of _Hello, Dolly_."

Gibbs shifts in his easy chair and frowns, looking as though he's about to say something. Tony peers at him hopefully from under his eyelashes, but it's apparent that Gibbs is simply getting more comfortable. He folds the newspaper back, moving on to the classifieds. Tony wonders if Gibbs is eying the notices of vintage automobiles for sale, or if he's checking out the personals: _Local Singles Waiting Now. Meet Sexy Redheads._

Tony's interest in newsworthy items on the Web gets sidetracked when he wanders over to the odd and the truly bizarre. He shares a story with Gibbs about a UFO being sighted over the Kremlin, and how officials are handing out gas masks and Hazmat suits to the general population. "You think that the Russians just _happen_ to have gas masks handy in case of an attack, or could it be that they're a nation of serious rubber fetishists? What d'you think, Boss?" 

Gibbs puts his reading glasses aside, and levers himself out of his comfortable chair with a hard-done-by sigh. "C'mon, DiNozzo. Let's get this over and done with."

Tony blinks, wide-eyed. He rises to his feet slowly, unsure of what it is that they need to do and get over. Maybe he missed a sign from Gibbs. He's about to ask what's going on when he sees the newspaper is still in Gibbs' hands. Only it's no longer layers of flat, crisp newsprint, neatly presented for serious reading. Now the paper is tightly rolled and Gibbs holds it in his right hand, smacking his left palm suggestively. It looks as though he's done this before.

"Shit." Tony swallows hard and tries to make light of what he's seeing, which is twenty pages of processed wood pulp rolled tightly into a baton that is sure to deliver a serious wallop. "Uh, you playing Buford Pusser? You've seen 'Walking Tall,' right? 1973. Backwoods cop carries a big stick and...guess you don't want to hear this right now, do you?"

Gibbs doesn't even bother to shake his head. He just meets Tony's eyes, his gaze steady. "Lean over and grab the back of the couch." It isn't a command so much as it's a statement, colored by the belief that Tony will do what he says without question.

That, to Tony, is sort of odd because everybody knows that it's in his nature to question things. "The couch?" Tony asks, his voice unnaturally high.

Gibbs points.

Tony obeys. He leans over the couch cushions and braces his hands against the back. Gibbs kicks at his feet until his legs are wide apart, and Tony's leaning so far forward that he's off balance. He clears his throat and asks nervously, "Gonna frisk me, Boss?"

"That what you want?" Gibbs sticks the rolled-up newspaper in his back pocket and positions himself behind Tony. He slips his hands under Tony's cotton t-shirt and caresses his stomach, causing Tony to suck in a breath. Gibbs' fingers roam a little until he locates Tony's nipples and he takes his own sweet time rubbing and tweaking them. Tony starts to pant at the sensation, and when Gibbs removes his hands from under his shirt, Tony moans at the loss.

"Easy," says Gibbs. "Not done with you yet." Gibbs's fingers riffle the hair on Tony's forearms on his way up to his biceps, flexed from supporting his weight. He gives them a squeeze as if testing Tony's strength and makes an appreciative sound. His hands meander across Tony's ribs to his armpits, shifting the material of his shirt as he goes, making Tony squirm. He wants – badly – to straighten up and face Gibbs, to see his face, but he doesn't dare.  
  
A warm, strong hand slides across the back of Tony's bare neck and clasps it for a moment before fingers comb through his hair, and Tony shivers in anticipation. Tony hangs his head and admits, his voice rough, "I always get turned on when anyone touches the back of my neck. Or my head. Maybe that's why your head slaps work so well–"

Gibbs slaps the back of Tony's head and Tony shuts up. Then Gibbs grabs hold of Tony's hips and presses close, his groin rubbing back and forth against Tony's rear. Tony's blood rushes to his cock when he feels how hard Gibbs is despite the layers of clothing between them. Tony wiggles his ass, wanting more, and he smiles at a soft chuckle from Gibbs.

Tony opens his mouth to speak but any words, any brain activity, grinds to a halt because there's a hand cupping his crotch. Gibbs fucking _squeezes_ him, and Tony swears that, even through his jeans, he can feel the calluses on Gibbs' hardworking fingers, and that's enough to make him rise to his toes and cry out, "Gibbs, _please_!"

Gibbs removes his hand and Tony whimpers, but Gibbs pulls at his waist to straighten him up. Tony's confused until Gibbs says, "Pants. Off."

Tony obeys, almost tripping over his pants around his ankles when he forgets to remove his shoes first. He knows he's acting like an impatient teenager, but at this point he doesn't have an ounce of dignity left. After all, this is _Gibbs_ and whatever his boss intends to do with him – _God, please, let there be fucking!_ – Tony is _way_ past caring that this is his _boss_ , for Christ's sake. Even in his sex-driven state, he doesn't miss the implication of what they're getting into. Boss + DiNozzo = fucked, and not necessarily in a good way. Finally he gets himself untangled, and is standing there, facing Gibbs. He's still wearing his t-shirt and his erection is sticking straight out, honing in on Gibbs; it knows who the boss is.

Gibbs shakes his head and smirks a bit, and Tony wonders what he's done wrong. He averts his eyes and blushes, hating that he does so, but it's no little thing that he's standing here – naked – with a big ol' hard-on in front of Gibbs, when he can't quite figure out how it got to this stage in the first place.

"Take it all off, DiNozzo."

"Huh?" Tony meets Gibbs' blue eyes, and the look in them, the possessiveness and lust that has nothing casual about it, makes his stomach feel funny and his knees go weak with want. "Oh!" He strips his shirt over his head and tosses it aside, thinking, 'Shit, I'm such a fucking eager puppy.'

Gibbs is looking at him, up and down like he's inspecting something he's intent upon purchasing and taking home to eat, and Tony's entire body flushes. He feels so damned hot and needy that he's about to crawl out of his skin, or jump Gibbs, or do something equally impulsive. That's when Tony sees that Gibbs has the rolled-up newspaper in his hand once again, and he swallows hard. His cock twitches and perks up a little more, which doesn't escape Gibbs' notice.

"You want some of this?" Gibbs asks nonchalantly, even though, by this point, they both know it's a given.

Tony nods, and shifts his weight from one foot to another, longing for whatever it is that Gibbs thinks he needs. He's never been like this before, so full of _want_ , so consumed with a blind desire for whatever it is that Gibbs is going to lay upon him. For Tony, sex with the many women he's known has always been pretty white bread. Now he is starting to think that he might not be quite as heterosexual as he's been led to believe, because he knows, deep down inside, that this… _this_ is what has been missing all this time. 

And as for Gibbs? It's a given that he knows what is best for Tony, always has, and all it takes is a rolled-up newspaper, and the certainty that this man is going to take care of him, to encourage Tony give it all up. "Yes," he pleads, sealing his fate.

Even though Gibbs' expression barely changes, he manages to look very pleased. "Assume the position," orders Gibbs.

Without needing any further instruction, Tony turns around and braces his hands on the back of the couch once again. He leans in, fingers gripping the upholstery to stop himself from shaking, and positions his bare feet wide apart. He's breathing harder now, his stomach taut and his cock leaking, and he can sense that Gibbs is just as ready as he is. Still, Tony struggles with himself for a few seconds, questioning his motivation, thinking briefly of his career, his life ahead, and then he accepts that it's futile. Tony closes his eyes and opens his heart, offering himself, submitting completely.

When he hears a small sound of approval from Gibbs, Tony knows that Gibbs understands and that it will be all right.

Gibbs' hand, confident and steady, runs down the length of Tony's spine and settles in the small of his back. The newspaper comes down hard on his ass with a resounding whack, and Tony comes.

***end***


End file.
